


No Chill

by PrinceVenus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Daichi cops out on the one day he's needed, Kuroo is Kuroo, Kuroo is an idiot who doesn't think before he leaps (literally), Sugawara saves the day, mild references to alcohol, paramedic/EMT au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6203287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceVenus/pseuds/PrinceVenus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“will you stop flirting with me you just got seriously injured and i’m the EMT trying to tend to your wounds in the ambulance, i don’t give a fuck that i look cute when i’m concerned, you’re lucky you’re not dead you dipshit” au</p><p>(thanks whichever "imagine your otp" I got this from :))) I'll properly acknowledge you if I ever find you again.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Chill

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Zero](http://www.colourlesszero.tumblr.com) on [tumblr](http://www.smolnerds.tumblr.com) for the 2016 Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Exchange. Enjoy, my children.

Sugawara Koushi is sure today is the day he’ll quit his job. Yesterday had only been a warm-up for the devastation of imbeciles that is this godforsaken city.

He’d been lifting himself into the back of the ambulance that morning, shielding a coffee within the folds of his white jacket, when Daichi had heartily slapped him on the back. “Full moon tonight, good luck,” had been the only farewell Koushi had received before he was being pushed into the ambulance, the doors snapping shut behind him.

 _Thank god for coffee_ , he momentarily thinks, sliding into a seat and producing the steaming styrofoam cup from his temporary cover once the ambulance had started moving, ensuring he wouldn’t be caught. There wasn’t exactly a strict _rule_ saying a paramedic couldn’t bring a hot drink with him in the back of the vehicle, but then again, Koushi tries to avoid the likelihood that there’s no written barrier because no one’s desperate (stupid) enough to take boiling hot liquids with them into the back of a fast-moving van prone to tight swerving, with all this medical equipment hanging about.

Koushi presses the cup to his lips, closing his eyes and letting his body sway in time with the vehicle. They’re not moving fast today, or blaring the sirens, so he figures there’s no real rush. He can hear the driver humming pleasantly, and briefly resents the freedom of sitting in the cabin. Koushi gets the life threatened individuals with lots of loud beeping and oppressing metal walls. Plenty of intoxicated individuals who have taken it upon themselves to become the next Evel Knievel, with the occasional wannabe Harry Houdini. The front seats get choice of music and windows to wind down on particularly stuffy days.

Koushi isn’t sure _what_ today had in store, but he also doesn’t really care to find out. Koushi often finds himself questioning his career choices, but there’s twelve (or thirteen, so Daichi likes to inform him) days a year that Koushi seriously considers quitting, and perhaps moving to the countryside to live out the remainder of his years as a cat hoarder.

Logic says that a full moon shouldn’t bring out any more incredulous cases than a normal shift, but Koushi begs to differ. Rarely, it was easily explained: the household witch meddled too closely with the fire; but it’s mostly just “the crazies,” as Daichi puts so nicely. The people who make you question just how they’re still alive to this day, or the ones who like to argue out every single tiny detail, right down to the decimal of the temperature inside the van.

Koushi hates full moons.

There’s two raps on the metal slide, shielding the rectangular hole used to converse with the drivers from the back and vice versa. Koushi hums to let them know he’s heard, before reaching below his seat and pulling out a small, duffel-like bag. He sighs, tipping back his cup and draining the last dregs of coffee, before tucking the cup under the seat in the now vacated space and hoisting the bag over his shoulder as the ambulance pulls to a stop. Koushi doesn’t have time to unlatch the doors and shove them open before his job is being done for him.

It’s a police officer who helps down from the van, and they share a look as Koushi meets his eyes. _Great_ , _a crime scene too._

The officer is cute. Probably not Koushi’s type, but he can’t help but admire a nice arse as the officer leads him around the side of the ambulance. Dark hair pulled under a black beanie, which Koushi figures doesn’t fit into uniform protocol, but he’s hardly one to complain. Koushi notes the bright blue eyes, too, when the officer turns around to point out the man on the ground, but he doesn’t let his mind wander too far before he’s approaching the scene.

The man, supposedly the one Koushi is meant to be treating, is laughing. He’s propped up on his elbows, red leaking from his nose, with his head tilted back to laugh at his friend. Koushi stifles his groan this time, because it isn’t in good form to show your patient just how intolerable their carer is feeling, but _come on_. Can’t there be _one_ full moon without a laughing maniac?

The man quiets his laughter as Koushi shrugs off his medical bag and crouches next to it. In fact, the man seems to fall silent altogether as Koushi unzips the bag, keeping an ear out as the officer behind starts to speak.

“This man decided it was appropriate to pry open a drain lid and jump down in chase of his friend’s mobile phone. He landed poorly and hit his head upon contact. There are traces of alcohol in both member’s systems, but the results for the drug analysis are still being procured. There’s a written hand-over, if you’d take the moment.”

Koushi nods, waving to the pavement beside him. “Just put it there, I’ll read it in a second.” Shoving his hand into the bag, Koushi extracts two small boxes. He pulls on a pair of latex gloves from one, and rips open the other to access the disposable cloths. Glancing up slightly, he finds the affected man gaping at him, eyes wide like Koushi is his god and saviour come to Earth, a real angel come to heal and protect. Koushi ignores it.

“Any allergies?” he asks, pulling the clipboard the officer placed down closer, and scanning over it. _Kuroo Tetsurou, age 22. Pain in ankle, head, wrist._

Koushi raises his eyes just in time to catch the man - Kuroo - shaking his head. Koushi smiles, which only serves to freeze Kuroo once again, and send his friend cackling behind them.

“Okay. Kuroo, right?” Koushi checks, sliding the clipboard away. Kuroo blinks. “Kuroo, I’m going to get you to sit up a little and lean forward for me, okay?”

Koushi doesn’t wait for the agreement before he’s gently pushing against Kuroo’s back, levering him up and over. Kuroo pulls his knees up in response, and Koushi nods. “That’s it. You’re doing fine. I’m just going to stop the bleeding.”

Koushi drags the second box closer, tugging several damp tissues out. “Hey, can you lift your head for m- yes, that’s good, thank you.” Pressing one of the cloth pieces below Kuroo’s nose, Koushi smiles at him again. Maybe because he’s enjoying the way it makes Kuroo react, and probably because he thinks Kuroo deserves all the minor punishment he can get. The man jumped down a _drain_ for god’s sake.

“Can you get me the nasal packer?” Koushi calls over his shoulder, hearing one of the ambulance doors slam. Mere seconds later, the plastic bag is being offered to his side, and Koushi grins. At least _someone_ knows what they’re doing without needing instruction.

His colleague settles down by Kuroo’s left foot, on the other side. Kuroo’s favouring that foot, and Koushi nods appreciatively at the freckled man who’s already begun untying Kuroo’s black canvas shoe. The name tag reads Yamaguchi Tadashi, and while Koushi can’t recall the name as a memory or familiar face, he’s glad to have the man there.

Koushi tears himself from his thoughts, pulling the reddened tissue away and immediately replacing it with another. Koushi had hoped the nose bleed might’ve just been simple, something easily stemmed and possibly already drying. The bloodied cloth says otherwise, though, and Koushi frowns. He tears open the plastic bag balanced on his leg with his free hand, and pulls out the humorously-shaped cylinder. The string dangles, and Koushi can feel Kuroo shrink away slightly under his touch.

Koushi chuckles this time. “I know, I know. But it’ll help, regardless of what it looks like.” Koushi twists the small object around in his fingers.

“That’s a _fucking tampon_ , _”_ Kuroo manages, and Koushi frowns, shaking his head.

“Nasal packing,” he corrects, dabbing gently above Kuroo’s lip before removing the tissue. Quick and easy, thankful for the practice, Koushi slips the packer into Kuroo’s right nostril with a smile. “If it’s going to stop you from choking on your own blood, then so be it.”

Kuroo looks like he’s going to argue back, but as he brushes the pale blue string from his lips, a soft cough from the third-party interrupts. Koushi tilts his head up, where Yamaguchi is perched, now gingerly lifting Kuroo’s right wrist. “Pretty sure his ankle is fractured, if not broken, but I can’t be sure.”

Koushi nods. “His nose won’t stop bleeding, but worst case scenario is minor concussion, which I’ll start checking for now.”

“Concussion?” comes the agitated squawk from Kuroo’s friend, but the rambling questions being thrown immediately start to fade into the distance before Koushi can even register what’s being asked. Koushi quietly thanks whichever officer had the ingenuity to lead away the friend before he gets in someone’s way. Koushi isn’t sure he has the patience for yet another, “I want to help!” case; he knows they mean well, but…well, Koushi trained for three years for this. Chances are, he knows what he’s doing (or so they say. Koushi isn’t entirely sure he should be trusted with someone’s life yet).

Kuroo’s head is between his knees again when Koushi refocuses in, but he raises it when Koushi shuffles to pull something from a keychain tied to his belt. Placing two fingers under Kuroo’s chin, he smiles. “I’m going to shine this in your eyes, it’s just regular procedure. Try not to struggle, mm?”

With a click, the small flashlight is flickering to life. Koushi carefully lifts Kuroo’s left eyelid, waving the bright light over it and nodding as the pupil constricts. He repeats the process to be certain, and then again on the left eye, before nodding an affirmative. Kuroo catches his eye, and Koushi gives him a thumbs up. “So far, so good. How are you feeling?”

Kuroo lets out a bark of laughter, pushing back a mop of black hair. Koushi leans back at the motion, finally taking in the man’s physical appearance beyond injury, and has to refrain from asking about the bedhead hairstyle and black-circle piercing in his ear.

“My ankle hurts, my wrist hurts, my head hurts,” Kuroo replies lightly, watching as Yamaguchi wraps his hand in white gauze. “Everything hurts.”

Koushi nods, clipping the flashlight back onto his belt. “Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You’ve had a few drinks?” Koushi asks, using his best conversational tone as he leans back, surveying Kuroo’s outfit. Hoodie and jeans, with a tear in one of the knees - presumably where he landed.

“Three cans of beer, that’s all.”

Koushi raises an eyebrow. “How long did it take you to drink them?”

Kuroo turns away, shrugging again. “Ten minutes, maybe. It was a dare.”

Koushi whistled lowly, crossing his arms and trying out his best disappointed frown. He’d practiced it enough, but Daichi is truly the man who can pull it off. “Three cans? Ten minutes? And you jumped down a drain pipe without checking the dark first?”

“Well, I-“

“Sir, are you aware you were well on the way to a not-so-great death, ridiculous headlines everywhere?”

Kuroo turns back, his face displaying something Koushi can’t quite decipher, yet something he sees far too much to be funny anymore. “I’m not dead though, am I?” Kuroo states smoothly, and then _winks_. Koushi doesn’t have to try hard to give him the dullest possible expression in return, considering Kuroo has a tampon-shaped device up his right nostril and a medical-blue string trailing down his lips.

“Yamaguchi, you’re done, right? We’ll need to get him on the stretcher,” Koushi asks, carefully avoiding Kuroo’s crestfallen face. He doesn’t, however, miss the moment Kuroo brightens up again, and Koushi promptly stands up and leaves to fetch the stretcher from the back of the ambulance. He doesn’t want to hear Kuroo’s new attempts.

 _It is_ too early _for this._

Kuroo’s already arguing by the time Koushi returns, wheeling the metal tray at his side. Kuroo’s also on his feet, despite Yamaguchi’s protests and desperate attempts to get Kuroo sitting again.

“I can walk fine!” Kuroo’s yelling, waving his arms about. “I haven’t lost my leg, I’m not _dead_!”

Koushi folds his arms over his chest, shrugging as Kuroo spins to face him in surprise. “Fine. Prove i-“

And then Kuroo is doubled over, and Koushi has to turn away because he is _not_ getting paid to watch drunk people expel their stomach contents on a nice residential street. Good people live here, some kids, maybe a dog or two. Kuroo’s just ruined a lot of people’s days, including whichever poor sanitation worker is hauled out here to clean up the mixture of blood and digested alcohol.

“On the stretcher. _Now_ ,” Koushi commands, pointing at the thin mattress once Kuroo’s successfully tainted the entire area. Kuroo obliges, wandering over meekly and flopping face first on the stretcher with a groan. Yamaguchi helps roll him over, and together they adjust the back piece until Kuroo is forced to sit upright, arms curled over his stomach. Koushi isn’t sure if it’s because his stomach hurts, or because he’s being petulant, but he’s worried to find out. One way or another, Koushi doesn’t want to deal with it.

They strap Kuroo in; or at least, Yamaguchi straps Kuroo in while Koushi silences him with a frown. It’s not until he’s safely stowed in the back of the van, chatting amiably with his friend like nothing’s happened, that Koushi realises the worst of his ordeal is not over yet.

Yamaguchi seems to realise this, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m the only listed driver for today, otherwise I’d totally swap.”

The semi-cute officer from earlier is offering the partner-in-crime a lift to wherever he needs to be, and Koushi is left to hoist himself in the back of the ambulance, frowning as Kuroo toys with the cords dangling by his bed. Yamaguchi slams the doors shut behind him, and they’re alone.

“Probably shouldn’t mess with that,” Koushi warns, turning around to pull on a new pair of gloves, disposing of the old bloody ones, and producing a packaged needle from the sharps case. “You alright with injections?”

Kuroo’s eyeing him warily, hands shrinking away from the IV drip he’d been twirling around. Koushi throws him a quick smile as the van starts to move, slipping out the thin stick of metal and screwing it onto the end of the drip with practiced ease. Koushi kind of wishes Daichi hadn’t skipped out on his shift today under boss’s orders; he’s much better at the stabbing and patience than Koushi.

Without pausing to think about it, Koushi is gently pulling Kuroo’s hand out, holding it as he would a child’s, and swabbing the crook of his arm. Kurd’s already wincing and turning away, and Koushi doesn’t hesitate in giving his hand a small squeeze, as intimate as the gesture may seem. Koushi’s never enjoyed either end of the needle, so the least he can do is offer his sympathies.

The needle is in before either of them can speak a word, and Koushi is grinning, planting his feet wide as the ambulance rolls to a stop, presumably a traffic intersection. Kuroo’s grinning too, and it takes Koushi a moment to understand that _they’re still holding hands oh god_.

“I- sorry,” he mumbles, pulling his hand away and wiping the palm on his pants. Kuroo is still smiling like a madman, eyes narrowed and teeth flashing. Koushi turns away, contemplating his chances of survival if he throws himself from the moving van. He’s certainly not blushing, or at least he’s not by the time he’s pulled another swab from it’s packet. “Let’s get that compressor out.”

By the time he’s turned back, Kuroo’s already dangling the expanded red object from his fingertips, swaying slightly like a pendulum, with a smudge of blood on his top lip. Koushi just plucks it away with a twisted mouth, dropping both soaked fabric and swab into the hazardous waste bin. He’s done with reprimanding Kuroo, he just wants to get this trip over and done with. He’s beginning to suspect his words will fall on deaf ears anyway.

“You’re cute.”

 _Never mind_.

“Sir, I’m a paramedic, not a stripper,” Koushi comments, lifting the IV drip’s bag onto a hook in preparation for arrival.

“That’s fine, flashy isn’t really my type anyway,” Kuroo responds, and Koushi sighs.

“You could’ve died today, you know that right?” Koushi says, settling back on the bench and setting his left ankle on his right knee.

“Well, it was worth the risk, right? I got to meet you.”

Koushi frowns. “No, certainly not worth the risk, not at all.” Kuroo’s pouting by this point, but Koushi just shrugs and tilts his head. “Your friend’s phone was broken anyway, right?”

“How’d you know?”

Koushi chuckles, brushing the hair from his forehead. Topic well diverted, he mentally highfives himself. “No phone falls from an eight foot drop and lives to tell the tale.”

Kuroo’s still pouting, but at least this time he looks thoughtful about it. “Are you always dealing with idiots jumping down drains?”

“Are you indirectly asking me if this is my daily job?”

“Maybe.”

Koushi thumbs his lip. “Yeah, this is my job.” Pause. “Don’t go jumping down drainage systems just to hit on me again.”

“Not my fault if I wander into the wrong area.”

“Actually, that is your fault,” Koushi points out, leaning back.

“Yeah, probably. It’s usually my fault,” Kuroo chuckles, and silences descends, save for the omnipresent rumbling of the engine. It’s not long before Yamaguchi is tapping twice on the metal slide again, and the ambulance is slowing to a stop. Kuroo’s giving Koushi a strange look, as he prepares to wheel the stretcher out.

“Su-ga-wa-ra,” Kuroo mouths, staring at Koushi’s chest, where his full name is emblazoned. “Suga-wara.”

Koushi nods. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Takashi?”

“Koushi.”

“Cute.”

“Hush.”

The doors fall open, and there’s two men waiting to grab at Kuroo’s bed. Koushi chooses the closer of the two to glare at, knowing full-well Daichi is ignoring his narrowed eyes and scowl. Kuroo twists around to give Koushi a cheerful wave as they wheel him off.

“Bye, Koushi!”

Daichi raises an eyebrow as Koushi not-so-subtly rolls his eyes, finally acknowledging the presence of his seriously ruffled friend, but Koushi just presses the doors shut as he clambers out. Today’s going to be a long day, but maybe, only _maybe_ , it didn’t have such a bad start after all.

—

Koushi’s got his head flat against the table, relishing in the soft vibrations travelling through the wood and shaking against his forehead. Someone _finally_ had to intuition to replace the coffee machine in the staffroom, and Koushi’s never been happier.

Until Ayumi strolls in, that is, pointing with her thumb to the open door slowly swinging shut. “You’re on ER desk duty.”

Koushi rolls his head to the side, pouting. “I haven’t had coffee yet, can’t you wait ten minutes?”

Ayumi shakes her head, a single lock of hair uncurling from her bun. “Hell no. I just sorted out the nightmare of infected children, now it’s your turn to deal with the man who stapled his fingers together.” Wandering over, she grips Koushi under the arms and hauls him upright, giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the door. “I’ll bring you coffee when it’s finished.”

Koushi slumps, dragging his feet on every inch of carpet on the way to the door. “You’re mean,” he whines, disappearing outside before Ayumi can scold him for scuffing his shoes.

He’s barely settled behind the glass pane at the ER desk before there’s someone leaning over, far too close for a stranger. Koushi doesn’t hold back his groan this time, figuring he’s more than overdue for such an expression when this familiar face peers in, grin stretching wide.

“Thought you were a paramedic?” Kuroo quips, leaning against the wooden ledge.

Koushi glances around in faux surprise, lightly slamming his hands on the desk. “Are you telling me this _isn’t_ an ambulance? Oh shit!”

Kuroo asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just curious.”

“I also work as a part-time as a magician. I’ve got this cool vanishing trick, you see,” Koushi explains, leaning back and turning from side to side in the desk chair.

“I’d love to watch it.”

Koushi frowns, clapping a hand to the side of his face. “Well, it’s quite the travesty, but I’m not sure it’s working anymore. I performed it about two weeks ago, but the man I cast it on just won’t disappear!”

“Oh yeah, what’s he look like?”

“Big, tall, muscular, black mop of hair. You know, the usual look that just screams _I seek out trouble_!”

“Well, you know how it is, trouble seems to just find me.”

Koushi taps his fingers against the desk, drumming out a regular rhythm with a hum. “Actually, I’ve got no idea. I’m half-suspecting you’ve intentionally hurt yourself this time.”

Kuroo holds up his palms with an apologetic smile. “Think you can patch me up?” His left hand, the one not contained in a white cast, is shimmering red with the occasional rivulet running down from two fingers, pinched together.

“I thought Ayumi was joking,” Koushi mutters, leaning in closer to peer at the masterpiece of metal and flesh. “You actually stapled your fingers together.”

“Oops?” Kuroo offers.

Koushi hits a button with a sigh, checking behind Kuroo to make sure the waiting room was still empty. “Head through, I’ve just got to find someone to hold the desk for a little while.”

Kuroo grins, running his clean hand through his hair. “Thanks Koushi,” he states brightly, before scooping up a pair of crutches from beyond Koushi’s sight and hobbling through the electric-powered door to the temporary wards. “I owe you one…two, actually. Two. Let me buy you two drinks after work.”

Koushi knows that’s an offer he can’t refuse.

**Author's Note:**

> [read it on tumblr](http://www.smolnerds.tumblr.com/post/140736742065/kurosuga-paramedicemt-au)? there's some cute (read: messy) notes for Zero at the end of that version.


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